hundred and fifty feet wide, and that’s more than enough to land Petrovitch’s plane even if old Petey himself is at the yoke nursing a hangover. I knew the field. For years, when driving on Route 101, I’d stolen a glance at the old blue-and-white Lockheed Constellation that marked the end of the runway.
I recognized the freeway exit ramp. I used to take Danny up that way to buy strawberries. Danny loved strawberries. I remember the first time he saw the strawberry fields – miles of them all the way to mountains – he could scarcely believe it was all real. Betty liked them too. We regularly bought berries there and took along a big tub of ice cream and had a feast in the car.
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